


Glimmer

by TheRebelFlower



Series: The Mechanic's Journey [1]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRebelFlower/pseuds/TheRebelFlower
Summary: Things don't always go as expected after you manage to escape an exploding prison in space...
Series: The Mechanic's Journey [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119407
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	Glimmer

It was dark.

It had been dark most of the way back to Earth.

The Mechanic didn’t mind the darkness. It gave him time to think. Between the chaos of the Hex exploding and International Rescue trying to escape the aftershock on time, no one had noticed the red and black space pod hurtling toward Thunderbird Three’s cargo bay and entering it. He wasn’t totally familiar with the type of vehicle he was in, but good design was good design and he had managed to latch onto the supports in the bay and shut things down.

Then he had waited. Survive first, think of a way to escape later. He had meant what he said to International Rescue’s chief of security. He didn’t want to trade one prison for another. He didn’t want to be under the Hood’s heel again and have to do horrible things. He had thought of staying on board and getting things over with. It would have solved a lot of problems for many people. He didn’t want to be someone’s _thing_.

But he didn’t want to die either.

He waited for the rocket to land, waited for the large fans to absorb the fumes from the engines, waited for the temperature inside the launch silo to revert to a bearable temperature and the silo to open again. He was used to waiting. He would find a way out of the rocket, then off the island. He knew where the boats were. That trip to Gran Roca Ranch the previous year had been most informative.

He thought back to the discussion he had aboard the Hex with Tanusha Kyrano. She had said that International Rescue needed him to rebuild the T-Drive. Something that didn’t even work. They seemed desperate for it. He didn’t understand.

She had dangled the promise that their resident engineer, Hiram Hackenbacker—Brains—would rid him of that implant the Hood had put in his head. It could be a trap. One thing he had to admit about the stuttering and bespectacled man however was that each time they met, he had felt respect and sincerity—Brains had talked to him as if he were an actual person. He had tried to understand and use reason. If Brains said that he would do his best to help, and he had said it more than once, he could be trusted... but was it even possible?

Something fluttered in the Mechanic’s chest. Hope? Fear? His head started to hurt.

Taking a deep breath, he activated a small light on his suit, looked around to get his bearings and located the manual override for the cargo bay door. He opened it a fraction and winced, momentarily blinded by the lighting inside the hangar. He squinted, inspecting his surroundings to try and find a way down and resigned himself to resort to climbing down the side of the ship—he hoped he wouldn’t break a leg as he did—when a shrill whistle and a sharp: “No, wait!” startled him and made him look up.

Staring at him from Thunderbird One’s station was an absurdly smiley Tanusha, dwarfed by the silver ship behind her. She cupped her hands to her mouth to add: “Use the gantry!”

She pointed at something to his left and he followed her movement; a metal maintenance gantry was turning slowly to reach his location. He stepped on it gingerly, grabbing onto the handrail when it began retracting again. Once it stopped, he made his way down the stairs on the inside of the silo and emerged at the bottom. He had to look up to see the young woman, who was following his progress from where she stood.

“Through there,” she instructed, pointing at another walkway that would take him across One’s railing and bring him up to where she was.

There were more steps than he thought. Either that or his time in the Hex had already started to affect his fitness levels. He felt a little sweaty and grimy by the time he set foot on the platform—the headache didn’t help.

“I... I thought you had decided... that you didn’t... never mind,” Tanusha began; the way she seemed to stumble on her words and her suspiciously shiny eyes were unsettling.

“I want to speak to your engineer,” he replied simply, aware that he sounded curt but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes, of course!”

She grabbed onto his arm to drag him to yet another set of stairs. He wasn’t certain of what he had expected by coming back, but it wasn’t that. No threats, no forceful takeover—and he knew she could fight—where was she taking him?

A lift. Thank God. Thunderbird One’s lift, to be precise. She pushed him a little so that he stood on a semi-circular platform, then, with a ridiculous: “Don’t touch anything until you get to the top, then pull on the lamps!” she closed the door and the lift started moving up.

Apparently, she wasn’t to follow him in. Not that there was much room on the platform, they would have had to stand pretty close to each other. He paid little attention to the uniform behind him, closing his eyes to try to avoid the lights passing the lift at regular intervals and fighting a bout of nausea. Pulling on lamps? Why, to make a genie come out?

The lift stopped. A part of the wall in front of him began to move, rotating to reveal... lamps. His brow rose in disbelief. _Oh for the love of..._

How was he supposed to pull on them? Reach out? It would be easier with his back to the wall. Anyway, if that wall rotated back, he would rather face away from the wall and be ready for a fight if need be. He took position and touched the lamps. He felt a light current go through him and his comms bracelet briefly came on. He ignored it and pulled, bracing himself against the movement.

He arrived inside the main lounge, apparently. He could see the youngest and the oldest of the Tracy brothers and Tanusha had made it from the hangar but seemed out of breath. He homed in on the last person in the room, standing a little further away.

Brains.

Ignoring Scott Tracy’s surprised “The Mechanic!”, he brushed past the younger man, not caring that he was looking back at him with some irritation, or perhaps contempt, to reach his goal. The engineer smiled kindly.

“Is it true that the T-Drive worked all those years ago?” The Mechanic asked, encouraged by the other man’s welcoming attitude.

“It did! And it sent J-Jeff Tracy to the Oort cloud!”

Something gripped at his chest again. It had _worked_? All these years of research and trials? “The Hood told me it failed. He said I was a failure...”

“It d-didn’t fail! You aren’t a failure!”

Brains' enthusiastic and confident words felt like an unexpected soothing balm on him. The headache ebbed away a bit. “I’ll build you another T-Drive, and you’ll free me from the Hood,” the Mechanic said.

He hated how hopeful and vulnerable he sounded, but no one in the room laughed, or snorted, or made a derogatory comment. Brains held out his hand. “I will c-consider it my greatest a-chievement,” he stated, looking him in the eye.

His handshake was firmer than expected. Under other circumstances, they might have collaborated together on other projects—Brains' research papers and innovations were incredible and the Mechanic had to admit that he was dying to study them further... would that be possible once he was free? Could he go back to a normal life and build ordinary things? Useful things? He had a difficult time believing his world might just have become less bleak...

“Well, what have we here?”

The Mechanic dropped Brains' hand and turned around. Standing at the top of the stairs leading to the kitchen below with her hands on her hips was the family matriarch in all her purple glory. She walked toward him, her stare unwavering, and stopped at the top of the stairs. Even if she was probably half the size he was—if that—she had a formidable and commanding presence that made you instantly stop and listen. She stared at him for a moment, her ice-blue eyes boring into him, and he half expected her to come down the steps to grab him by the ear and drag him to wherever the T-Drive would be built. She didn’t.

“When was the last time you had a decent shower and a home-cooked meal, son?” she asked in a mellowed tone of voice.

... What?

He blinked, barely aware of the odd snort that came from behind him. “I... I don’t...” he stammered, totally taken aback.

“Scott, please be a dear and try to find some clothes and put them in one of the guest rooms, will you?” Sally continued, unfazed.

“Mrs. Tracy, I—”

“We’ll get you things on the next supply run. Shower first, meal after,” she added, gesturing for him to follow her and headed for the upper floors behind her grandson, not waiting to see if the Mechanic was following because she simply didn’t expect him not to.

And, of course, he did follow her. This was just so... _surreal_. Where had he landed? What a strange family, what a strange woman...

***

He stepped into the kitchen, dressed in what must have been Scott’s clothes as they were a tad too small, feeling naked and vulnerable after wearing his high-tech protective suit for such a long time. The shower had felt wonderful, he had to admit, and he had indulged in remaining under the seemingly endless supply of hot water for a longer time than it was necessary. His hair flopped on his head because of the lack of gel and he had to fight the urge to brush it back all the time.

Sally was at the counter and gave him a satisfied smile. “That’s much better, now, isn’t it?” she commented, then gestured toward the table, where he saw a plate full of food already waiting, along with a tray of what seemed to be chocolate cookies. “Have a seat, young man.”

His stomach gave an undignified growl and his legs moved before his mind did. He sat down, holding back an equally undignified moan of anticipation and hunger as he smelled the curry in front of him.

“Sorry, it was quicker to reheat some leftovers; I didn’t think you’d want to wait all that much,” she said, “But the cookies are freshly baked though!”

He glanced at the tray. What he had thought was chocolate at first was actually... charred? “Um, thank you?” he replied awkwardly.

The curry was delicious. He had to make a conscious effort not to wolf it down like some sort of castaway who had just landed on this island, which in a way, he felt he was. Sally put a tall glass of milk in front of him—he hadn’t had milk as a drink since he was at university and the thought brought half a smile to his face—and sat down next to him. The serious expression on her face wiped his smile off.

“You will be part of this household for a while,” she said, “this situation might not be anyone’s choice, but know that you are welcome here.”

He shot her a disbelieving look. “Despite of what I did to you?”

“We are all adults here and we know how to make the difference between what you do and what you were made to do. There will be frictions, I’m sure of it, but it’ll work out in the end. Just pick up after yourself, do your part in the weekly cooking, do your own laundry and everything will be fine.”

Could people really be this welcoming and accepting? Had he been living in reclusion and fear that long? He couldn’t help the “Yes, Mrs. Tracy” that escaped his mouth.

She smiled genuinely at him. “You’re safe here, son. Remember that.”

“Yes, Mrs. Tr—”

Catching him off-guard yet again, she stood up and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for helping us to get my boy back,” she said.

Stunned, he could only sit there at a slight angle with his head against her shoulder, wrapped in more human contact and motherly warmth than he had felt in years and somehow, he knew things _would_ be fine now. Almost overwhelmed by the wave of unexpected affection he felt back for the old woman, he closed his eyes, lost but oddly contented at the same time.

He opened them again when she patted his shoulder and dealt him a final blow: “Now, do you like boxing?”


End file.
